


Super

by TheRoarOfAtlas



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Calling Star-Lord Star-Lord, El Tango De Roxanne, F/M, Feelings Realization, Grexkam Is A Fictional Representation Of Monsters Under Your Bed, My First Work in This Fandom, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Porn with too much plot, Race For Your Love trope, Terran!Reader - Freeform, The biggest group of a-holes, This got hellaciously long and I'm not sorry, a magnificent man with a mighty mixtape, he totally has an outlaw name fetish don't argue, thirst party saturday
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-30
Updated: 2017-07-30
Packaged: 2018-12-08 16:21:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11650278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRoarOfAtlas/pseuds/TheRoarOfAtlas
Summary: Welcome aboard another Thirst Party Saturday, everyone! I would like to preface this tale with the statement that I haven't seen Volume Two yet, so I apologize for any inaccuracies that may arise. Due to my lack of knowledge though, I suppose this is probably spoiler-free! This is set at some point after the first film and before the second one.[x-posted to Tumblr]Enjoy!





	Super

**Author's Note:**

> [!TRIGGER WARNING!: This installment contains brief allusions to a previous abusive relationship.]

You had always been fascinated by space. The vastness of it, like the oceans of your home, begging to be explored. The stars, impossibly tiny pinholes in the great navy fabric of the cosmos. Suns and moons, planets vying for territory, spinning in orbits, constant motion described in unfathomably large ways.

 

_It's fitting_ , you thought as you clung to the edge of the airlock for dear life, _because I'm about to get a first-hand experience_.

 

This whole night had gone very, very poorly. Of course, you _were_ dangling out of an airlock. Not normally something one would do if things were going well. Space was _cold_ , you were quickly discovering for yourself. Air continued to rush past you into the void, snatching the breath out of your lungs. You wanted to scream but that tiny, rational part of you knew it would be a waste of more precious breath.

 

_I'm going to die_.

 

Suddenly, something covered one of your hands. Fingers, gloved in black. Large, glassy red eyes beamed at you from the darkness of the airlock and you were relatively certain you _did_ scream then, although your ears were ringing loudly from the lack of oxygen. To be sucked into space, or pulled back into the ship and probably eaten by whatever the hell alien _this_ was? Your vision was fading, gray static tunneling. All you could focus on was the dull thud of your heartbeat in your ears over the ringing.

 

_I'm_ _ **definitely**_ _going to die_. _What a lame dream_.

 

...

 

Waking up _not_ in your bed was a surprise.

 

The first thing you were aware of was the headache. Next came the cramping of your fingers as you slowly uncurled them from the tight fists they had been in. Your shoulders pounded like you had done an upper body workout. You supposed flapping in the proverbial breeze on the side of an _actual space ship_ hadn't done your poor dream muscles any favors.

 

You opened your eyes and squinted in the too-bright light, closing them again to try and adjust. So you were still dreaming, then. The abduction, running through rounded metal hallways as that _alien_ screeched and bounded along behind you. It all seemed ludicrous now, even as you forced yourself out of the fog, clawed your way back into comprehending what your eyes were seeing.

 

You were in a small bunk of some kind. A blanket covered you, and belts were secured loosely over your chest and thighs. The ceiling of the bunk was plastered with pictures and clippings, some tiny metal objects that seemed to project a set cycle of different holograms. _Star-Lord_ appeared to be a recurring name in the clippings, at least the ones written in a language that you could read.

 

You blinked, flexing your fingers to get some feeling back in them. You figured a slow, methodical approach would be best when it came to this area. You had suffered enough the last time you entered a new environment and reacted quickly.

 

A low hum surrounded you, like a smooth engine. The lights occasionally dimmed in response to fluctuations in the hum, confirming the engine theory. So you were in a vehicle of some sort. Another spaceship? Or were you just in a foreign part of the one you had already seen? It was so different though. Cramped, yellowish lighting that gave a warmer feeling. There was a wood panel set in the wall beside you, housing what looked like an _ancient_ tape deck. Chrome dials flanked the deck on either side, evoking memories of your old stereo.

 

_Okay, that's not alarming at all_.

 

You shimmied up so you could unbuckle the belts and stretch, warily taking in a bit more of the room. Cluttered, total chaos reigned. Boxes and metal crates all tumbled over one another, it looked like someone had ransacked the place.

 

_Still not that alarming_. You swallowed the panic that lapped at the base of your throat, swinging your legs over the side of the bunk and struggling to stand. You felt weak, your knees wobbling beneath you. Footsteps clanked loudly down a ladder in the middle of the room and you flinched, scrambling off the bed and crawling behind one of the many piles of crates.

 

It was a man, a fairly _regular_ one by all accounts, and you breathed a sigh of relief. He looked confused as he stared at the empty bunk, then he jerked back around. “Hey! Where the hell are you? I swear to shit, if I saved your ass and you ran off on me-!” He threatened, storming towards your hiding place. “Where the fuck...” He started rifling through some larger crates, grumbling to himself the whole time about _ungrateful assholes_. He shoved the crates over and banged them into the ones you were hiding behind, toppling them as well.

 

You couldn't help the terrified scream you let out, skittering backwards until your back pressed against the wall. “Jesus! Fuckin'-- _there_ you are, damn. Sorry I knocked that over, it's kind of a mess in here.” He apologized, and even through your fear you noticed his tone quiet down a little. “Had to evade some shit and things weren't secured, barely got _you_ strapped down in time. You okay?” He crouched to get on eye level with you, reaching out a hand.

 

“Don't, please!” You begged, curling away from his hand. “Where's the aliens, the big one that chased me and the one with the huge red eyes? Where am I?”

 

“Whoa, hey, alright, not gonna' touch you. Uh, I nuked the big guy with a stun, he was kinda' my client but it's all gravy. He paid me before he went apeshit on ya'. The red eyed alien I think is me? It's my rebreather, helps me stay alive in space n' stuff.” He offered you a smile. “Name's Star-Lord.”

 

You wanted to laugh, he sounded like something straight out of science fiction. But the memory of being chased by that huge, screeching alien came back in vibrant color and you shuddered instead. Science fiction was seeming less and less fictional by the second. _This is some dream_.

 

“As for where you are, well, I mean, you're on the Milano, s' my ship. Currently, we're camped out in outer Nova Corps airspace. Uh, I dunno' if that helps or not but there you go.” He shrugged.

 

“I'm dreaming.” You said weakly. His _ship?_ Nova Corps airspace? _What the_ _ **hell**_ _did I eat before bed?_

 

“Well I mean, if you're dreaming of me that's pretty cool. I _certainly_ don't mind.” He smirked, reaching out again. His smirk faded when you cringed. “Hey, easy. M' not gonna' hurt you, promise. I dragged you in outta' that airlock, right? Thought you were a goner for a few minutes, wasn't sure you'd come around. It's been a while since I've seen another Terran.”

 

“Terran?”

 

“Y'know, somebody from Earth. Normally I only see folks like you and I on outposts, slave planets. Abductees tend to not adjust well to this intergalactic bullshit.” He rocked back on his heels, then sat down. “So what happened?”

 

“I was running--I mean, I was...but...” Your voice faded off, you remembered the cold blue-white of the beam that had enveloped your body and then there had been nothing except blind terror.

 

Star-Lord whistled, looking nervous. “You're like, _fresh_ outta' Terra then.”

 

“This is so dumb, this is the _dumbest_ dream I've ever had.” Your laugh was a little hysterical. “The worst part is that I don't really want to wake up from it even if it is fucking _terrifying_ , because that means I go back to what I was dealing with.”

 

“Well you aren't dreaming, but it's cool if that makes it easier for you I guess. Although I'm a little concerned about you and the whole ' _this isn't worse that what I had going on_ ' thing, if I'm bein' honest.” Star-Lord gave you a suspicious look, blue eyes narrowing. “You gonna' try and kill me in my sleep, Terran? Be a pretty shit way of paying me back for not eating you.”

 

“I doubt I could kill you. O-Or anyone else for that matter!” You tacked on hastily. “This is probably just some metaphorical, rescue fantasy-type thing that my brain has cooked up for me. I'm at home in bed right now, snoozing away.”

 

“A rescue fantasy, huh?” Star-Lord still looked suspicious. “The heck do you need to be rescued from?”

 

“N-Nothing, no one.” You stammered, “I guess you already fulfilled that part of the dream anyhow. You are kind of non-threatening, compared to the...giant, alien guy.”

 

“Aw, now why you gotta' say stuff like that? I'm _plenty_ threatening! Just ask anyone, they'll tell you!” Star-Lord huffed, getting to his feet. “I'm a billion times scarier than Grexkam, shit.”

 

“I just meant that you look decent! You look...you look like someone I would _want_ to be rescued by, you know?” You tried to explain. He cocked his head to the side and you hesitantly continued, “You look like someone I would _definitely_ dream up to save me. You...have a nice face, nice eyes. A cute guy to save me from a giant, hideous monster.”

 

“Shucks, I dunno' about all that.” Star-Lord seemed almost flustered, breaking eye contact and clearing his throat. “I could still eat you, y'know. Never know what a Ravager might do.”

 

“Yeah, I'm shaking in my sneakers.” You quipped, pushing yourself off the wall to stand up. “God, I feel like I got hit by a truck.”

 

“Kinda' surprised you didn't dislocate nothing. The whole ' _vacuum of space_ ' thing. Pretty impressive you can actually move.” His eyes focused on the rectangular shape that showed through the lycra fabric of your running shorts. “What's...What's that?” He asked slowly, a hand reaching to his side.

 

“Oh, it's my MP3 player.”

 

“Your...what?”

 

“My...MP3 player? Music? Do-”

 

“ _Music?_ ” Star-Lord's whole face lit up at the word, excitement plain to see. “Oh shit, you have like, _current_ Terran music? As in, shit from the here and now?”

 

“Well, I have music from now, some oldies, some classical stuff...I like a lot of different things.”

 

“Can I listen?! How do you use it, let me see, what does it look like?” Star-Lord asked breathlessly. “You guys made the tapes real small, huh? That's like, a quarter of the size of my Walkman.”

 

“It's not...there's no _tapes_ , it's all on it. Stored internally. You know, digital stuff.” You squinted up at him. “Your _Walkman?_ ”

 

“Later, later, just let me see. Holy shit, it's been like _twenty_ fuckin' years since I heard some new Terran tunes. How do I...oh, the headphones jack is the same. I've got my own upstairs, hang on.” He ran back up the ladder, nearly falling in his haste. “I was abducted in the late eighties, I think it was eighty-eight or eighty-nine?” He called. You heard some rummaging from above your head and then he slid down the ladder railing, battered old headphones in his hand. “I'll have to have you listen to the Awesome Mixes sometime.”

 

“' _Awesome Mixes_ '?”

 

He gestured impatiently to your MP3 player. “ _Later_. Lemme' listen. How do you use it? Wait no, just play something for me, I’ll figure it out later.” He reminded you of a child with a new toy.

 

You were _definitely_ dreaming, you decided, shrugging to yourself while you fumbled his headphones into the player and quickly turned down the volume, not sure what level the fossilized tech could even handle. Star-Lord bounced in place after he snapped the headphones over his ears, obviously doing his best to be patient. “What do you like as far as music goes?” You asked, scrolling through the Artist list.

 

“Just play me something, doesn’t matter!” You pressed play and his whole body snapped to attention, the expression on his face changing rapidly from impatience to wonder. As though he couldn’t help it, he shimmied his shoulders once. “Shit, what is that?” He finally asked loudly, making you pause the song. “Sorry, thanks. What’s the name of that song?”

 

“Working For The Weekend. It’s by a band called Loverboy.”

 

“Can…Can I keep listening?” He looked hesitant. “I like the…I mean it’s kind of been forever since I heard _new_ music that didn’t need to be filtered so I could understand it.”

 

“'Filtered', huh? Okay, crazy guy in a red trenchcoat, sure.”

 

Star-Lord opened his mouth, looking like he was about to protest. Overhead there was the abrupt clack and clatter of numerous footsteps on the metal floor. His look of annoyance changed to one of relief and he quickly pulled his headphones off.

 

“ _Quill!_ ” That was a woman's voice. She sounded irritated.

 

Star-Lord's smile thinned. “Just uh, stay put down here, okay? I gotta' break the news that we have a new shipmate.” He gestured towards the bunk and then was off like a shot for the ladder.

 

You tilted your head to the side, listening in to the muffled conversation that was happening on the upper deck. You couldn't make out any words, but it definitely sounded like at least four people were involved. _God, this dream is weird_ , you thought, settling back down on the bunk carefully. Your shoulders were loudly reminding you of their stress and you sighed, kneading your fingers into your right shoulder blade. _I would spend most of a dream in some kind of agony. Probably leftovers from being awake_ , you reasoned, grimacing.

 

“--yeah no, they're down here, I just--Gamora, _wait!_ ” Star-Lord's voice became clearer and you raised your eyes to see someone who was definitely _not_ Star-Lord come down the ladder. She was _beautiful_ , stunningly so, even with her skin as green as the famous Orion slave girl from Star Trek.

 

_Shit,_ _ **that's**_ _what this is all from. I'm dreaming about old TV shows._ You slowly got to your feet, not sure where this courage was coming from as the woman stared you down. She turned back to Star-Lord, saying something that seemed angry. You kept hearing the word ' _quill_ ' and you wondered what she was talking about. Aside from you, of course, you could gather that from her gestures.

 

A large gray body trundled into view on the stairs, interrupting what seemed to be a heated scolding. The individual was humanoid in shape but _bulkier_ , like someone who had spent their whole life in a gym. They looked at you curiously and you stared right back, bewildered. You had no idea where your brain had pulled _this_ alien from! “Quill.” They ( _he?_ ) said, turning to look at Star-Lord. Rambling in a different language from the green woman, the gray man seemed to be indicating his own confusion at your presence. You bit your lip, worried.

 

Something suddenly grabbed your hand and you flinched, pulling back. A _raccoon?!_ A bit larger than the ones you'd seen digging through suburban garbage, it was wearing an orange jumpsuit and its eyes shone with an almost-unnerving intelligence. _And now I'm dreaming of a Disney movie._ You inclined your head to the animal and weren't really surprised when it opened its mouth to talk. More words that you couldn't understand, though it appeared to accept you slightly better than the green woman. Who was still _clearly_ upbraiding Star-Lord.

 

“I am Groot.” Stated a tiny voice right next to your ear. A small plant creature had somehow gotten onto your shoulder, delicate vine-like tendrils clinging to wrinkles in your loose sweatshirt.

 

“H-Hi there.” You introduced yourself quietly, vaguely wondering why the raccoon looked like he was grinning at you. The little... _Groot_ , took a seat on your shoulder, legs kicking back and forth as they watched the argument going on in front of you. It was getting to the point where you felt _more_ than awkward. You'd been reduced to essentially a strangely-made coffee table, a curiosity to catch the attention for a brief moment before being forgotten in favor of more important business.

 

The raccoon tapped your hand again, pressing a small object into your grip. It was curved, with a jutting piece like the uppercase letter 'G'. He touched the tip of one of his ears and you noticed upon closer inspection that he was wearing a similar device. The raccoon mimed putting the object over your ear and you nodded shakily, shooting a wary glance at Star-Lord and noting that he was still heavily embroiled in being chastised. The large gray man had joined in at some point, his tone more paternal.

 

You quickly wrapped the slightly-flexible object over the shell of your ear, disoriented momentarily by a quiet hiss of static and then the translation of the argument pouring in. “-obviously traumatized, Quill, what the hell did you _do_ to them?” The woman was saying, her exasperation evident.

 

“Hey, don't give me that _shit_ Gamora! Grexkam was gonna' eat them, I couldn't just-” Star-Lord began to protest but the gray man interrupted him.

 

“Quill, they do not look like they are able to fight. What was the point of taking them? They are weak. It is the way of the galaxy if something else is able to eat them.” You got the feeling that he wasn't being malicious, but it was still hard to hear someone say that you deserved to be left to your fate.

 

“I haven't seen another Terran in _months_ , Drax. And I've got a kinda' personal aversion to being _eaten_.”

 

“So what bullshit stunt did you pull on Grexkam to get him to hand them over?” The raccoon asked, looking up at you out of the corner of his eye. “Terran is _kind_ of a delicacy as far as eats go. Especially for ol' Grex.”

 

“I uh. I stunned him. _Don't_ look at me like that, Rocket, I can't just go ham in every situation!” Star-Lord squawked when the raccoon huffed and grunted something about him being ' _soft_ '. “I needed to maintain our relations, man, he paid good for my tech and if I want to keep this ship flying I have to be careful when it comes to blasting people in the face.”

 

“You gettin' all this, newbie?” Rocket asked you, mouth twitching into a strangely-feline smirk. “Ol' Quill here saved your hide because he's a big soft _bitch_.” He said it fondly, not an ounce of unkindness in the harsh word. You got the feeling that the ragtag group in front of you was tightly-knit.

 

“Quill? You said your name was Star-Lord.” You flushed in embarrassment when everyone turned to look at you and you took a step back. Star-Lord himself looked incredibly confused, his eyes darting to Rocket and then narrowing. “I mean, not that it matters, this is all a dream anyhow.” Rocket practically _exploded_ with laughter.

 

“You did _not_ -” Gamora's words choked off and she fixed Star-Lord ( _Quill?_ ) with such an intense glare you were surprised his skin didn't start smoldering. _Oh dear_.

 

“Damn Gamora, you _really_ think I would pull that shit with someone who thinks this whole situation is a hallucination?” The young man pressed a hand to his chest. “I'm wounded. That's harsh, even from you.”

 

“Your track record speaks for itself. You call yourself Star-Lord when you're trying to impress someone.” Drax said bluntly. “Also you are not wounded, at least not to my knowledge.”

 

Star-Lord deflated visibly. “Look, I know this kind of throws a wrench into things. But-”

 

“Where did you get a wrench? Rocket told me he had hidden all of your tools in retaliation for y--”

 

“ _Drax!_ ” Rocket growled. “Ix-nay!”

 

“I am Groot!” You had almost forgotten about the plant-like being that had taken up residence on your shoulder.

 

Star-Lord pointed at Groot, his expression hopeful. “Look, Groot likes them! That counts for something, right? _Please_ guys, just until we get close enough to a port with a decently-priced shuttle to get them home, okay?” He bargained.

 

“They are _your_ responsibility.” Gamora folded her arms across her chest, giving you a stern look. “As for you, don't let _Peter_ talk you into doing anything stupid.” She stressed the name, making Star-Lord unleash a torrent of protests which she continued over. “You are a civilian and you've clearly had a traumatic experience. I would tell you that those days are over, but _some_ people seem to have a knack for sniffing out trouble.”

 

“Trouble has a smell? I would learn it, so I may be more effective in my hunt!” Drax exclaimed and you watched Gamora roll her eyes up to give the ceiling a long-suffering stare.

 

“Nah man, it's just an expression. You go out to make trouble, like the only purpose you have for leavin' the ship is to get into a big fight.” Rocket tried to explain.

 

Drax just looked confused. “That is exactly what we do.”

 

“Okay, forget it.”

 

…

 

You continued calling Peter ' _Star-Lord_ ', much to his delight amid the teasing of his shipmates. You were beginning to suspect after a few _weeks_ had passed that this was not a dream at all, but your reality. Which should have been terrifying, you had been thrown into an existence that you could barely wrap your head around. Technology light-years ahead of what you were used to, _spaceships!_ Intergalactic travel, strange new places (that may or may not have the same gravity as Earth, you still owed Drax and Quill for grabbing your arms before you sailed off into the violently-pink atmosphere of one such planet), not to mention all the colorful characters you found yourself surrounded by every time there was a supply run.

 

It should have been terrifying, leaving everything you knew behind. But...what _had_ you left, really? Your situation had been _much_ less than favorable. In a way it was almost a relief to be so quickly and completely removed from it, even if the following hours had been hectic and terrifying. You wondered what might have happened to you if you hadn't fled your house that fateful night, where you would be.

 

You secretly weren't _too_ heartbroken every time Star-Lord or Gamora returned from a shuttle kiosk and shook their head. It was a hard business, finding a ticket to Earth that wouldn't put the semi-outlaws into debt for the foreseeable future. You stopped asking and slowly, the trips to information booths and terse talks with traders ceased.

 

The translator Rocket had given you was apparently one of Star-Lord's spare ones that the shorter alien had squirreled away when Peter was “ _being obnoxious, as always_ ”, along with a variety of tools and other small implements that Rocket knew Quill would eventually miss. “I'd planned on screwing with it so he'd only hear fart noises when people talk. But I guess you'll probably get more use out of it working the way it should.” He said grudgingly one day as he tinkered on one of his many explosive devices. “After all, you gotta' deal with Quill all the time, I'm sure he'd get a little _too_ puffed up if he was the only one you could understand.” He gestured at you with a human-sized wrench. “God only knows what kinda' bullshit he'd tell you we were sayin', y'know?”

 

“I am Groot.”

 

“Listen li’l man, it ain't the translator's fault that nobody understands you. Ya' race's speech is obviously _heavily_ based in a very complicated mix of inflections and tones and sh-- _stuff_ that most normal tech don't know how to read.” Rocket growled at Groot, reminding you of a father scolding their child. “I can't devote _all_ my time to pet projects.”

 

“I am Groot!”

 

“Oh _ho_ , you're a brat is what you are. I said _Quill_ was like that, how dare you accuse me of pullin' that kinda'--”

 

“Rocket beast, I must speak with you.” Drax had a habit of just kind of _lumbering_ into conversations, offering you a nod of acknowledgment as always. You nodded back, still a little intimidated by the large gray man. He reminded you too much of the situation you had left behind, though it was hardly his fault that he was _also_ big and loud on occasion. Despite his scary demeanor and hard words when you'd first arrived on board the Milano, he seemed to have quickly accepted you into the group. It probably helped that you did your best to stay out of his way. “It’s about Quill.”

 

“Whaddya’ mean, ‘about Quill’? You yank his spine out or somethin’? I ain’t interested otherwise.” Rocket said dismissively.

 

“He is acting strangely. I wondered if you had noticed anything.”

 

“I _toldja’_ man, he’s a Terran raised by a Centaurian. Bones anything that catches his eye and steals stuff to make a living. Dude probably has enough emotional constipation and daddy issues to stop up every piece of porcelain within six hundred light years of this ship.” Rocket hadn’t taken his eyes off the item he was working on, somehow maintaining the conversation. “So when you say ‘ _strangely_ ’, I need somethin’ a little more _specific_. Terrans are weird by default.”

 

“ _You_ are Terran, have you-” Drax began as he turned to you, his expression perplexed when you flinched back. “Why do you do that?” He asked instead, making Rocket finally look up from what he was doing.

 

“My…” You wracked your brain for a way of explaining your fearful reactions to the literal-minded alien. “Something bad happened to me and sometimes it…when a person moves too fast or is too loud there are…um, echoes of the bad.”

 

“It’s post trauma, Drax. Like your wife-and-kid nightmares.” Rocket said bluntly.

 

You watched Drax tense, tattooed shoulders drooping after a moment. “I see. You are…afraid of me.”

 

“No no, not _of_ you. An alien like you, maybe. Big tough guy, probably a loud _jerk_.” You jolted at Quill's voice, startled. You hadn’t noticed him meander into the main area. His eyes bored into your own with that searching look he’d given you when you first woken up on his ship all those weeks ago. “An asshole, I figure. Somebody who thought they owned you.” His voice had gone soft and you swallowed hard, breaking his gaze to stare at the tiny tree-like alien in your lap and blink back tears.

 

“I am Groot?” A vine touched your face, catching a tear that had slipped out.

 

Drax looked more horrified than you’d ever seen him. “I have made the Terran cry now, Quill! Quickly, how do I fix this? What are the requirements of your people?!” He asked in a panic, grabbing Star-Lord and shaking him back and forth. Peter’s expression morphed from annoyed to nauseous and you couldn’t hold in your giggle.

 

Gamora made a sudden appearance, straightening her tunic out and yawning in the doorway. She seemed to slowly notice the two men in front of her, her eyes narrowing. “What in the _galaxy_ are you… _Drax!_ ” Gamora chastised the gray alien. She had obviously been sleeping, black and purple hair still all rumpled. “Not on the ship! You know the rules! You guys want to fight, we _land_ somewhere first!”

 

“Not--fightin’, he needed an--explanation.” Quill managed to get out as Drax continued to shake him. “I think y-you’re okay, big guy, look.” He continued, gesturing towards you. “Look, they’re smiling at you.”

 

Drax dropped him and Peter hit the floor with an indignant ‘ _oof!_ ’, the young man getting his legs tangled in his long coat as he floundered to stand. “God--dammit, shit, dammit-” He muttered in exasperation. You offered your hand to help him up, still giggling while Drax stood there staring blankly at you. Star-Lord seemed a little surprised but took your hand regardless, letting you haul him upright. “Okay so, the coat _looks_ badass, but sometimes fashion is your downfall.” He said, like he was teaching you a life lesson. “ _Always_ pick function over form, got it?”

 

“Yes sir, Star-Lord!” You snapped a salute and Rocket _cackled_ while Gamora groaned.

 

“ _Just_ what we need, like he wasn’t insufferable enough before. Someone acting like he has authority.” She rubbed at her eyes tiredly. “I'm going to go back to sleep.”

 

“Quill, you are a fool. The Terran should abandon all pretense of top coverings. Haven’t you seen how maneuverable I am in battle?” Drax touched his tattooed chest with a closed fist. “Only wear what is absolutely necessary, Terran!”

 

Peter made a noise like he was choking on something, his face going an odd shade of pink. You realized the implication of Drax’s suggestion after a moment, blushing as well. “I um. I mean, it’s very kind of you to think that I’d ever be tough enough to go into a fight with no shirt but uh…I think I’ll keep my clothes on for the time being.” You steeled your nerves and reached out to touch Drax’s arm. “Thank you.”

 

He covered your hand with his own, looking serious. The raised lines of his bodily markings pressed into your palm. “You Terrans are all very weak. But Quill has surprised me before with his tenacity and complete disregard for his own body in battle. I believe you will become bold as well.”

 

“I…thank you?” You squinted, unsure if you were being complimented, insulted, or both.

 

“Complete dis… _listen_ , you literal shithead--” Peter began to protest.

 

“Hey hey! Not in front of Groot.” Rocket said sharply.

 

“I am Groot!” Groot scampered down your arm and up onto Drax’s shoulders, toddling across the broad expanse while the gray alien chuckled, albeit a little sadly.

 

“He’s still so small.” Drax said quietly, easily plucking Groot off his shoulder and letting him clamber all over his arm instead.

 

Rocket went silent, dexterous paws stilling. Gamora rumpled his fur as she passed by on her way back to her bunk and Rocket snarled halfheartedly at her. Peter took a seat beside the smaller alien, proceeding to pepper him with obnoxious questions about whatever it was he was working on. After a few moments, Drax carefully took your hand so Groot could teeter across his makeshift bridge and slide back into the pocket of your sweatshirt.

 

“Keep him safe.” Was all Drax said, his facial expression a little softer. You nodded, feeling Groot wriggle around inside his soft domain.

 

When you chanced a look back at Star-Lord he seemed deeply involved with Rocket, nodding and listening intently to whatever knowledge the smaller alien was grudgingly bestowing upon him. As you moved to leave the room though he glanced up, catching your eye and giving you a quick smile.

 

…

 

“He gets sad sometimes, thinking about how the little guy used to be.” Quill said out of the blue after dinner. You usually cleaned up the cramped galley once everyone was finished with either the communal meal or numerous smaller ones, depending on the sync of sleep schedules. Groot had headed off to bed with Rocket per the usual routine. Gamora and Drax had retreated to their respective bunks as well. For _some_ reason Star-Lord seemed to be in a talkative mood, crowding you in the tiny galley as he propped his hip up on the counter to chat.

 

“What was different about him?” You asked curiously, scrubbing hard at a stain on the lone, battered pot. The kitchen was… _spartan_ in its usable objects. There was one large pot, one medium-sized pan, a small collection of odd spoons, and a spatula that looked _suspiciously_ like a bent knife.

 

“He was at least seven foot tall. Thick as a wall, strong as an ox.” Quill shrugged, munching on a strange-looking fruit. “He saved the hell out of us, and then we saved the galaxy. He was kind of... destroyed upon arrival. Rocket managed to salvage a twig or two and I tell you what, when Groot opened his little eyes I thought Rocket was gonna’ bust.”

 

“So he’s very protective now?” You gave up on the pot, starting on the pan. “You know, because something bad happened?”

 

“Yeah. I’m kinda’ surprised he lets Groot out of his sight, honestly. He’s a total dad when it comes to that.” Peter looked a little wistful for a second, before shaking himself and popping the last bite of fruit into his mouth. “Here, lemme’ finish this work stuff.” He said, putting his hands on your hips and shifting you back from the sink.

 

You went along with the motion even as you protested, “But I can’t do anything really _important_ around here, Star-Lord! Wouldn’t it be better if I--”

 

“You make it so Rocket doesn’t worry as much about Groot. That’s really, _really_ damn important.” Quill’s face lacked his usual teasing smirk. “We do our best to take care of our own, as I’m sure you’ve figured out. Groot kinda’…he definitely took it a step further. We all owe our lives to that little plant that likes to hang out in your sweater. To have another set of eyes on him, someone else who will make sure he ain’t getting into mischief is…I’m sure it’s a relief to Rocket. Definitely makes our missions easier.” He inhaled deeply, running a hand through his messy hair. “So just let me take care of the galley, okay?”

 

“I didn’t realize…it hasn’t been like, a _chore_ or anything. I like spending time with him. Kind of reminds me of what I could have had, back home.” You said quietly after Peter rattled around in the sink for a minute or two. “He’s no trouble at all.”

 

“What could you have had?” Quill asked, doing his best to wrangle together the scattered silverware.

 

“I mean, eventually I’d like to have a family. Groot is a lot smaller than the average baby. Smarter too. Maybe I could adopt him.” You mused, half-joking. “I mean, raising my new son with his raccoon father might be a little… _strange_ , but it could be fun.”

 

Peter cleared his throat, not seeming to share in the humor of the notion. “There are...other Terrans out here, y'know.” He said finally, focused on the cutlery in his hands.

 

“Hey, you never _did_ tell me what an A'askavarian is-”

 

“It was _one time_ and-and only for a job!” He sputtered, knocking your shoulder playfully with his own. “Cut it out.”

 

You nudged him back with your hip, bumping him into the wall and scooping the forks and knives out of his grip so you could rinse them off. “Well right now, you're just 'man who hasn't really helped with the dishes'. I don't know if that's a preferable title, but there it is.” You teased, turning to spread the silverware out on the worn dishrag to dry.

 

“You always know what to say to knock me down a peg or two.” Quill commented wryly, holding his hand out to you once you were done. “Wanna' go for a walk?”

 

You looked at him with suspicion. “Star-Lord, we're...well, I don't actually _know_ where we are, I just know we aren't docked anywhere.”

 

“Yeah. That's kinda' the point.”

 

...

 

Space was just as cold as you remembered. At first, you clung to Quill's arm in fear. Your floating motions unnerved you immensely, as did the volume of your own breathing in your ears. “I'm scared.” You admitted.

 

“I can tell, pretty sure I'm gonna' have bruises.” Peter joked, quickly grabbing your hand when you released him on reflex. “Hey, I won't let you go spinning off into space. Trust me, huh?” You couldn't see his facial expression, but he sounded a little concerned.

 

“Sorry.” Slowly, tentatively, you let go of Peter's hand. This time he eased himself away from you, allowing you to maneuver untethered.

 

“Check it out!” You said, straightening your arms out at your sides and tilting your chin up. “I'm Iron Man!”

 

“You're who?” Peter asked in confusion, tapping on his boot thrusters to keep up with your slow drift.

 

“Iron Man! He's one of the superheroes back on Earth. He's got jets in his hands and his boots, he wears a big metal suit that's red and yellow. When he flies he puts his arms down like this.”

 

“Ah, got it.” Quill seemed unimpressed, crossing his arms behind his head.

 

“We have _lots_ of superheroes, y'know.”

 

“Oh yeah?”

 

“Too many to count! Especially since the Mutant Registration Act got tossed out.” You said proudly, mimicking his motions to lay on your back. “We have _schools_ and stuff.”

 

“Ooo, fancy.” Peter snorted, easily looping over and around your body. “Meanwhile, me and my team of _awesomes_ saved the whole damn galaxy and I'm still stealing shit to make ends meet.”

 

You shrugged. “Can't please everybody.”

 

“Ain't that the damn truth.” Star-Lord mused.

 

“Do you consider yourself a superhero?” You asked curiously. “I mean you guys saved the _galaxy_ , that feels very superhero-esque to me.”

 

“I dunno', really.” Quill turned his head to look at you. “It's kinda' the only super-heroic thing I've ever done, and I spent most of it either crashing my ship or standing in one spot with my skin burning off.” He said quietly. “We weren't heroes, not really. We were just a bunch of a-holes trying to do one huge right thing. It was a hell of a time.”

 

“Sounds like.” You agreed. “I tell you what, you saved me from that Grexkam guy. As far as I'm concerned, you have an honorary Terran superhero pass. Courtesy of me.” You mimed handing him a card, smiling when he laughed and pretended to accept it. “For displaying extreme chivalry in dragging my ass inside, I thank you, Star-Lord.”

 

“Heck, I'd do it again any time.”

 

Later that night as you settled into the bunk you'd been loaned, you thought back on what he had said.

 

_There are...other Terrans out here._

 

You rolled onto your stomach, propping yourself up on your elbows to lean over the side of the bunk. Peter was curled up in his bedroll on the floor like always. You opened your mouth to ask him if he was still awake, but the words refused to come. Finally, you just sighed and laid down on your back again.

 

...

 

The tech negotiations had gone… _poorly_ , and now here you sat, forced to your knees while Quill struggled nearby in the grip of angry captors. In front of you there was an incredibly ornate captain's chair, and in that chair resided a being who you could only assume was an A’askavarian. Three-clawed feet, crossed languidly over one another, tentacles curling and writhing over the back of the chair.

 

“Your friend needs to learn how to keep his hands to himself, Strangely-Colored Krylorian.” The alien said quietly after a moment. “He has cost your group this deal. Possibly your lives, though I have not decided yet.”

 

“Dude they’re _not_ part of this, they’re literally here to sightsee. Don’t you get it?” Star-Lord snapped. “ _I’m_ the bad apple, just let them go back to the ship.”

 

“I have heard the stories of a Dancing Terran. Perhaps you are not a Strangely-Colored Krylorian after all. Do you dance, Little Terran?” A coil gripped your chin to tug it up. “You are afraid.”

 

“Yes sir.” You answered honestly, squeezing your eyes shut when Star-Lord began to thrash and protest.

 

The tentacle patted your cheek quickly so that the suckers on it didn't latch. “Don’t be afraid. I only eat the disobedient. Dance for me, Little Terran.”

 

“They _don’t_ dance!” Quill yelled. “I’m the one with the moves! _I’m_ the one that you want!”

 

“ _You_ are remarkably loud. If you make another sound, Loud Terran, I will tear them apart.” The A’askavarian threatened, seeming bored with Quill's antics. Peter immediately shut his mouth, looking decidedly panicky. The A’askavarian clicked his teeth after a moment. “Why do you not move, Little Terran?”

 

“I…I’m very sorry sir, b-but I’m not-”

 

“The negotiation phase of this was over when your greedy friend decided to put one of my people’s priceless artifacts in his pocket. You can either dance for me or the both of you can die.” Those deadly talons twitched. “Now.”

 

You stumbled to your feet, feeling your shaking knees threaten to dump you back onto your rear. “Y-Yes sir. What…What should I dance for you?” Your voice trembled and you cursed inwardly. A faint trill of moody violin met your ears and you straightened up, momentarily confused. You shot a glance at Star-Lord and he shrugged, withdrawing his hand from his pocket. “Not _this!_ ” You hissed at him, wondering briefly why he even had your MP3 player in the first place. Quill grimaced, mouthing ‘ _sorry!_ ’

 

“This sounds sad. Fitting.” The A’askavarian said with a hint of impatience. “Dance, Little Terran.”

 

All the nights you had spent in your apartment came flooding back. When you would put on your headphones and let everything fall away for a little while, lose yourself in pretending to be graceful and poised. As a young child you had dreamed about becoming a professional dancer, your head full of silly ideas like bouquets of roses, cards with your name written in elaborate script, a crowd of people applauding as you put on a show for them and…and it was suddenly difficult to think, your heart beating so hard in your chest as you realized what was at stake if you didn’t appease this haughty A’askavarian.

 

So you took a deep breath, closed your eyes and spread your arms to center yourself.

 

It had been a _very_ long time since you’d been graceful, but your steps grew more sure as you paced the room, measuring the space you had. You weren’t exactly dressed for this activity so you took a second to strip off your overcoat. The song was at least familiar, if a bit difficult to dance to alone. Praying you hadn’t made the wrong choice, you extended a hand to Star-Lord.

 

“Move, Loud Terran.” The A’askavarian had leaned forward, his interest clearly piqued.

 

Peter hesitantly took your hand, his fingers cold in your grip while he followed you. He looked more serious than you’d ever seen him before and that was a bit troubling. Also, he wasn’t familiar with the song, his normally easy motions stiff. “ _Roxanne_ …” The chorus played on in the background, a haunting tango melody as the two of you circled one another. You mouthed the words so you wouldn’t lose track of where you were, doing your best to lead Quill.

 

He _abruptly_ seemed to catch on to the tempo, his boots snapping together loudly with the next breath. You watched as his shoulders straightened up, and then you floundered as you realized you'd lost your place in the song. Quill was already there with a hand on the small of your back, pressing you tightly to his body and masking your fumble as best as he could. His palm slid down your thigh, guiding your leg up to wrap around his hip. Your roles had reversed in the blink of an eye; Quill led now with his usual confidence and practically dragged you around with him. If you didn't know any better, you would think he was _enjoying_ himself.

 

When the song finally ended it found the two of you flush against each other, both a little breathless. Peter looked _thrilled_ , his smile blinding as he pressed his forehead to yours. “You didn't tell me you could dance.” He panted.

 

“Didn't think I could anymore.” You whispered.

 

“Oh, you _definitely_ can. I-” Star-Lord's delighted reply was cut off when the A’askavarian cleared his throat, interrupting him.

 

“You are free to go, Loud Terran and Little Terran.” One tentacle waved vaguely in the direction of the door while another took your hand, tugging you closer. “Unless of course, you do not wish to leave. I found my heart quite moved by your display. If you stay, I assure you that you would be treated well.” Another dismissive tentacle gesture. “After all, you are quite the delicacy. I prefer my food well-rounded.”

 

Your mouth went dry and you had to swallow several times before you could manage to squeak out a weak, ' _no thank you, sir_ '. Quill snatched up your hand the second you were free of the tentacle's grip, his thumb rubbing back and forth over the red marks created by the suckers. “Thank you for your kindness and hospitality, sir.” You said, your voice a little stronger. Even if Quill wanted to be belligerent or self-righteous, the fact of the matter was that he _had_ been caught stealing and it was definitely a miracle that the two of you were even leaving this ship at all.

 

It was difficult to tell due to the pointy teeth and greenish skin, but the A’askavarian seemed almost sad for a minute. He actually stood to bid you farewell, offering an elaborate, flowing bow that utilized every appendage. “Farewell, Little Terran. If ever our paths cross again, I would greatly enjoy another dance.”

 

Peter tensed and you quickly returned the bow before being ushered out to the airlock by the surly guards. The both of you hardly had your rebreathers on before you were expelled back out into the dark abyss from whence you came. Star-Lord quickly caught you around the waist, tugging you to his chest and tapping his boots to ignite his boosters.

 

“So...” You drawled after the silence had stretched to an uncomfortable length.

 

“So?” Peter echoed, tilting his head to look at you.

 

“You banged one of _them?_ ” You asked, expecting him to sputter something about _I needed information!_

 

Instead, you felt his hold tighten and he sighed heavily. “Yeah.”

 

“...Did you like it?”

 

“ _Jesus_ , no!” _There_ was the explosion you'd been waiting for, but his pent-up nervous energy made him erupt into laughter instead of anger. You were grateful because you weren't sure how you would get back to the Milano without him. You joined in his laughter, giddy with relief. “So I have to ask, what the heck is that song from? The words were familiar but the tune was all different.” Peter was still chuckling slightly as he spoke.

 

“There's this thing called a jukebox musical where they take songs that already exist and write a story around them. They're super cheesy and absolutely great.” You settled more comfortably into his arms as you explained at length, filling him in on such glorious achievements as _Rock Of Ages_ and _Mamma Mia!_.

 

Peter seemed reluctant to let you go even once Rocket managed to scoop the two of you up in the Milano, the tall man standing dead still in the airlock while you waited for your rebreather to de-mat.

 

“Hey, my legs work fine, you can put me down.” You protested as he headed down the hall to his bunk area.

 

“Listen, I already know Gamora and Rocket are gonna' give me absolute hell over this.” His rebreather was still active, hiding his face. You reached up for the button by his ear and he flinched away, raising his chin.

 

“Sorry, I didn't-” You began to apologize, feeling a little concerned.

 

Star-Lord shook his head, carefully depositing you on his bunk. “Just stay here for now, okay? _I'm_ sorry. I shouldn't have...that was irresponsible of me and I'm...fuck, just...” He stammered, knocking his forehead into your own and falling silent.

 

“I'm okay, you know.” You could barely make out his eyes through the thick red lenses, but he looked upset.

 

“You've been through enough bullshit.” His voice was rough. “I didn't want to be the reason you went through more. Sorry I can't resist taking stuff.”

 

“Hey, at least he was straightforward about eating us.”

 

“What _happened_ out there, man?!” Rocket yelled as he scampered down the ladder, Groot already reaching for you from the shoulder of the small alien. “You were gone for half the damn cycle, what...” Rocket trailed off, his eyes narrowing as he took in how close the two of you were. “Oh. _Oh_.”

 

“Shut up.” Star-Lord growled, pulling back to hammer on the button for his mask and head for the ladder. “Got what we came here for so I suggest we get the fuck out of this system.”

 

“Wait, what?” You asked in confusion, your eyes widening as you saw Peter start to rummage in his satchel before he disappeared to the flight deck. “You _didn't!_ ”

 

“Like I said, out of this system!” Star-Lord answered loudly. “ _Now!_ ”

 

Rocket gave you a wary look, his ears twitching back and forth rapidly. “So did you guys, uh-”

 

“Rocket!” You scolded, cupping the sides of Groot's head like you were covering his ears. “Not in front of Groot!” The Milano's engines roared to life, effectively ending Rocket's questioning as he scurried to secure himself. Groot clung to your arm and you covered his back with your palm, keeping him steady.

 

Raised voices met your ears and you grimaced. Quill obviously had to explain himself to Drax and Gamora, which you imagined would not go too well.

 

…

 

“Star-Lord?” You whispered, getting a sleepy groan in reply.

 

It had been _hours_ worth of flying before Peter had decided that the A'askavarii fleet was out of range, the young man all but dead on his feet from the long period of driving in high-alert mode. You had left the bunk to get a snack in the galley and returned to Quill sprawled out on the bed, snoring with his mouth _wide_ open. You didn't really want to wake him so you sat down on the floor, dragging his sleeping pad and bedroll from underneath his bunk and flattening them out.

 

You knelt next to the bunk and carefully pressed a kiss to Peter's forehead. “Thanks for the dance, Star-Lord.” You said softly. His hand clumsily caught the pocket of your sweatshirt, fingers tugging at the fabric for a second before he released you and curled up on his side with a quiet hum. His arm hung off the bunk, fingers brushing the floor.

 

You laid down on the bedroll, your eyes drawn to his hand dangling there tantalizingly close after you made yourself comfortable. You sighed, wriggling in the bedroll until you could hold his hand. Quill groaned again but didn't move, and you felt your eyelids grow heavy.

 

_Goodnight_ .

 

When you awoke hours later, Peter was gone and you were back in his bunk. You sat up with a yawning stretch, itching your ribs. A quiet knock on the wall beside the bunk got your attention, Gamora offering you a weirdly-gentle smile. “Peter wanted me to tell you that he's found a shuttle chain that will take you back to Earth.” She said softly.

 

Your heart plummeted into your stomach and you knew it must be clear on your face because she made a sympathetic sound, taking a seat beside you on the bunk and rubbing your back. You stared at the floor, confused and hurt beyond belief. “W... _Why?_ ” You asked, the catch of tears already in your throat.

 

“He's scared.” Gamora whispered. “He told us about what happened. He's scared that if there _is_ a next time, it won't end so well.”

 

“Don't I get a say in this?”

 

“He seems to think you want to go home. He already got your ticket and everything, he just came back.” Gamora sounded torn. “He wanted me to wake you up.”

 

Your words failed you. You heard small footsteps and then Groot was scrambling up your leg, standing and holding his arms out once he reached your knee. “I am Groot!” He looked  _very_ upset and you quickly scooped him up and held him close, willing yourself not to cry. 

 

“Why the _fuck_ is he pullin' this shit?” Rocket snarled, clawing at the blanket hanging over the bunk until he could move himself up to sit next to you. “Groot likes you, and...and _Quill_ was the one hell-bent on havin' another Terran in here in the first place! I don't get it.”

 

“Terran.” Drax's large hand covered your knee. “Quill told us to assist you in preparing to leave. I am in charge of snacks. I-”

 

“That's okay, Drax.” You successfully swallowed your tears and got to your feet, acting like you were dusting yourself off. You tugged Groot free of your sweatshirt, nudging his forehead with your nose and then handing him back to Rocket. “You be good, okay little guy? I am Groot.” You did your best to use a joyful and excited tone when you spoke, not wanting him to be sad. Groot just stared up at you, large eyes radiating unhappiness. 

 

Rocket didn't seem to be faring much better, his ears flat against his skull as he urged Groot up onto his shoulder again. “Listen, you...you take care of yourself, okay?” He finally said, taking your hand and squeezing for a second before dropping it again. “Try not to get picked up by another guy like Grexkam.”

 

“I'll do that.” You held out a fist to the small alien, knowing that displays of affection tended to make him anxious. “Fistbump for luck?”

 

Rocket grinned weakly, tapping his paw against your own. “You ain't so bad for a Terran.”

 

Gamora stood as well, touching your shoulder. “I am sorry about this.” She murmured. “Will you be alright out there?”

 

“I don't have much of a choice, now do I?” You scowled, making her smile.

 

“I suppose not. Take care of yourself, please?”

 

Drax clasped your forearm before you could answer her, his hold firm. “You are adequate.” He said slowly, seeming very proud of himself. “Quill speaks of you in glowing terms and that is enough for me. I apologize, what I said when you first came aboard was unnecessarily harsh.”

 

“That means a hell of a lot coming from you. Hey, if you're ever looking for a good fight, we have an Asgardian on Earth who might give you a run for your money.” You grinned, whacking your forehead into his own and making him chuckle. “Thanks for grabbing me that one time I almost ended up in orbit.”

 

“It was no trouble. You're light.” He replied sincerely. “Now, I was told snacks are the most important part of any trip. Please help me select the ones you want.”

 

…

 

You settled into a seat on the shuttle, a small bag stuffed full of food and an assortment of odds and ends resting on your lap. You were pretty sure Rocket had gifted you something explosive, ' _in case of an emergency_ '. You sighed, buckling up and putting your earbuds in. When you went to rummage around for your MP3 player though, you couldn't find it. You frantically dug through the bag, your fingers finally gripping... _what is that?_

 

It was a  _very_ familiar rectangle, gunmetal-blue and heavy in your hands. You turned it over and your eyes widened.  _The tape_ . The Awesome Mix tape was still in it. You got the feeling that a trick had been played, there was no sight of your MP3 player anywhere and this was  _definitely_ not something Peter would part with easily. You glanced around, waiting for Rocket to come bursting out from beneath the seats or something equally crazy.  _I don't get that lucky_ . You thought ruefully.

 

You cautiously plugged your earbuds in and then pressed the play button, leaning back in your seat as the intro you had heard so many times before eased over you once again. You closed your eyes, your body relaxing a little at the familiar song.

 

“ _I'm not in love, so don't forget it. It's just a silly phase I'm going through_...”

 

You zoned out as different aliens filed on board, staring dully up at the stained ceiling of the shuttle. Good to see that some things about public transportation didn't change. You were willing to bet that if you checked under your seat you would find the alien equivalent to gum stuck to the bottom of it.

 

You had six shuttle changes and you knew you ought to be checking them for delays on the small tablet that Gamora had pressed into your hands, but you couldn't bring yourself to move just yet. You figured once the shuttle was underway you would have  _plenty_ of time. You just wanted to wallow for a few minutes. You fought the tears back, closing your eyes again.  _It's not worth it, just like you weren't worth it_ . You sniffled and bent your body forwards over your bag, hugging your knees and curling up into a miserable bundle of snacks and Walkman. 

 

The departure announcement droned over the PA system and you tightened your grip, sadness slowly creeping in.  _Back to Earth I go_ . 

 

There was a commotion at the front of the shuttle but you barely noticed it over the crooning singer in your ears. Probably some uppity Xandarian complaining about their accommodations or another thrill-seeking Ergon. You paid it no mind, fingers tapping out the slow rhythm of the song on your kneecaps.

 

_What will I even do once I get back?_ You wondered.  _I had nowhere to go in the first place. I was running and I thought I could figure it out as I went. We see how well that turned out_ . This whole adventure was like a giant step back. How could you explain your absence? You assumed it had been  _months_ since you'd been on Earth. You wondered if anyone had noticed you were missing. He had done such a thorough job of isolating you before you fled, you were unsure if there was anyone  _left_ to notice you disappearing. 

 

The argument grew louder, interrupting your thoughts and making you look up curiously. A  _very_ familiar pair of legs met your eyes, that long coat pulled aside to free up his blasters, his back to you as he tangled with a sputtering Xandarian who had a tiny Druff on a leash beside him.

 

“You don't _understand_ , man, I need to--just let me _through!_ ” Star-Lord snapped, sounding frustrated. “I don't _need_ a ticket because I ain't coming along, this is only gonna' take a second so don't give me that _rigamarole_ , buddy!”

 

“Sir I've _told_ you that you-”

 

“What are you doing?” At the sound of your quiet voice, Quill's shoulders shot up around his ears. He whirled, his expression a mixture of embarrassed and relieved. You unplugged your headphones and held out the Walkman. “Here. I think Rocket put this into my bag. Sorry.” You said evenly, staring at his chest so you wouldn't have to look at his eyes.

 

Quill totally ignored your outstretched hand. “I made a mistake.”

 

“I'd like my MP3 player back, please.”

 

“ _Listen to me_ , I made a _mistake_. Okay? It's me. Earth to Terran, Star-Lord here, one of the Guardians Of The Galaxy, admitting he's wrong.” Peter swallowed hard when you made no move to reply. “I know you're angry with me.”

 

“What a brilliant deduction, Sherlock!” You exclaimed sarcastically. “Meanwhile, you're inconveniencing every person on this shuttle who's trying to make their connections because your shipmate decided you needed to _interact_ with me one last time.” You knocked the cassette player against his chest. “This is what you came for. So take it.”

 

Peter pushed your hand aside and grabbed your shoulders. “I'll show  _you_ what I came here for, because I didn't even fucking notice that was missing.” He growled, pressing his lips to yours. You squeaked into his mouth, startled. Quill pulled back, his eyes searching your own. “I came here for  _you_ .” He said softly.

 

“You...wait, _me?_ I thought...” You tried to gather your thoughts but it was incredibly difficult with his body so close to yours, his grip on your shoulders still tight.

 

“I'm an idiot. I'm a stupid, dumb asshole. I'm _the_ stupid, dumb asshole that's in love with you.” Peter confessed, a pink tint flushing his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. “So I guess I'm _your_ stupid, dumb asshole. Technically. I-If you want me, y'know.” You grimaced at his poor attempt to feign disinterest and he started laughing ruefully. “Alright, alright, I'm sorry. I'm not good at this shit.” 

 

“Look, as _touching_ as all of this is-” The poor Xandarian ticket issuer began.

 

“I'm so sorry for the inconvenience, sir. I'm sure you've heard all about the weirdness of Terrans.” You apologized, immensely entertained when the alien nodded in the affirmative. “There's been a change of plans, I guess. How do I...?”

 

“Oh!” The Xandarian tapped rapidly on his own small tablet, shifting a few things around. “There you are, M-” He paused to squint at the screen, “-um, sorry, _Star-Lord_. The refund has been credited to your account.”

 

“Did you _really_ \--”

 

“You bet your ass. Now, put that somewhere safe.” Peter interrupted, waiting until the cassette player was tucked back into your bag. He slung an arm around your shoulder, pressing a kiss to your forehead as he strode down the gangway with you. Hesitantly, you slipped one finger through the belt-loop over his blaster. “Rocket is such a little shit.” The man said quietly.

 

“You are _not_ in a position to talk, buddy.” You huffed, leaning into his embrace. “What made you change your mind? I mean, you bought me a _ticket_ , that's sort of a final thing.”

 

“I...you can't tell anyone about this, okay? _Especially_ Rocket.” You nodded and Peter sighed, squeezing you for a second. “I missed you. I woke up this morning with you holdin' my hand and I thought about everything that could have gone wrong and I just...I panicked. I panicked and I got the tickets and I told myself I was doing the right thing even if it felt shitty, because like...for once in my life, this shit wasn't about me, you know? It was about keeping someone else safe. Keeping _you_ safe.”

 

“But you missed me.”

 

“Look, I don't _miss_ people. That's just not how I work, never was.” Peter shrugged. “So when I realized what the hell I'd done _and_ what the hell was going on with my feelings, I knew I was fucked. It's not exactly like Earth is _easy_ to get to, even with jump gates and all that shit there's some pretty strict policies in place.” He pulled you off to the side, pressing your back to the wall. “I couldn't let you leave.” He murmured. “I'm fucking terrible at this shit, but I couldn't do it.”

 

You bit your lip, staring up at him. “Thank you.”

 

His brow furrowed. “For what?”

 

“Being so dumb.”

 

“Fuckin' kiss your idiot, will you?” He pleaded, grinning when you obliged him. “So...the others are out stretching their legs and sussing out supplies or hopefully, finding some new targets.”

 

“Oh?” You raised an eyebrow. Peter nodded, a slow smile lighting up his face as you took his hand. He couldn't stop laughing when you took off running, dragging him along with you across the terminal.

 

…

 

Peter was all but smoldering once you got back to the Milano, blue eyes alight with excitement even while he held you close for a moment. “I'm glad you're here.”

 

“So am I.” You murmured, backing away to pull your sweatshirt over your head. Peter watched the motion hungrily, his hands already tugging at the hem of your threadbare shirt.

 

“Please.” He begged, chuckling breathlessly when you pushed his coat off his shoulders. “Okay, yeah, got it. Quicker that way.” He started undressing himself, almost losing his footing when he tried to take his boots off standing up. You giggled and he flipped you the bird with a grin, then sat down on the floor to tug at one of his boots. You straddled his lap, surprising him with another kiss. “God _dammit_ , I just-” Quill paused, urging your hips down against his own. “- _fuck_ , yes.” 

 

“I don't do this for just anyone, you know.” You felt the need to say as he struggled to get out of his shirt. “I don't normally come back to some random guy's spaceship for sex, not that kind of Terran.”

 

“Look, I'm not just _any_ 'random guy', got it? I'm fucking _Star-Lord_. Legendary Guardian of the Galaxy. That's got to count for something, right?” He grinned, mouthing at your neck lazily. “I'm a big goddamn hero. I know how much Terrans dig superheroes.” Peter pulled you upright with him, walking you backwards to his bunk. “So I'll show _you_ somethin' super.” His smirk slipped a notch when your knees hit the floor and he seemed flustered as you unbuckled his belt, his fingers gently winding through your hair. 

 

“May I?” You asked, looking up at him for permission. You watched as he bit his lip before nodding, the pink skin worried by his teeth while you continued unzipping his pants.

 

“Hey, only if you _want_ to, okay?” Peter said abruptly, cupping your chin. “I'm not that kind of asshole.”

 

“I understand.” You nuzzled his hand, kissing his knuckles. “I won't do anything I don't want to anymore.”

 

“Good policy to h-- _ave_.” Quill choked on his words when you graced the head of his cock with little kitten licks, a moan fighting free. “Sorry, s' been a couple months.” He managed to say, gripping your hair tighter as you opened your mouth and swallowed him down, inch by inch. “ _Ugh_ , fuck, okay, you-- _shit_ , wow.” His gasping, halting words were music to your ears, making warmth pool in your lower body. You couldn't help your whimper and you loved the way he threw his head back at the noise, swearing under his breath. 

 

All too soon he was grunting and tapping two fingers to your chin to hold you still, easing himself out of your mouth. A glistening strand of spit ran from the head of his cock back to your lips and Quill cursed again at the sight, tipping your chin up. He rubbed his thumb over your lips, the motion almost contemplative.

 

“So...how do you want to do me?” He asked finally, making you snort. “ _What_ , don't laugh at me! I'm just trying to be polite is all. I don't...look, I've never really...not with a Terran, okay?” He huffed as he helped you stand.

 

“Really?”

 

“Yeah so uh...I mean, the info on us out here is a little sparse. I've heard something about self-lubricating?” Peter shrugged. “Never had anything like that happen to me, though.” You took his hand and slid it into your underwear. The way his eyes went wide was incredibly satisfying. “ _Oh_ , damn. Okay then. They were not joking around, you are...” His fingers curled and slipped easily into you, making you whimper and grab his arm. “ _Fuck_ , holy shit.” He breathed, sounding almost reverent. “You're _soaked_. Does that happen a lot?”

 

“When I'm turned on.” You clung to his arm a little tighter as he scissored his fingers, the digits spreading you open. “Makes it easier.”

 

“Got it.” He murmured. “I'd...will I actually...?” He trailed off, frowning.

 

You raised an eyebrow. “Will you what?” Peter's thumb momentarily rubbed your clit and your nails dug into his arm, hips bucking.

 

“You seem really small.” Quill said finally. “As in, on the inside. I know you're... _slippery_ , but am I going to hurt you if we do this?” His concern was touching, probably the most adorable thing you had ever encountered if you were being honest. “You keep gripping my fingers. What if I...I dunno', what if I burst you or something?” He withdrew his fingers, absently licking them clean. 

 

“If you're on your back, I can control your depth. If I need to. Would that make you feel better?” You offered, laughing when he eagerly flung himself across his bunk to dig around one of the drawers flanking the tape deck. “You're _ridiculous_ , calm down.”

 

“Got one!” He said triumphantly, holding up a small packet with unfamiliar writing on it. The packet _itself_ , however, was very familiar. Peter flopped down on his back, pulling his pants down over his hips and thighs. “Fuck my boots, I don't even give a shit.” He finally growled after wrestling with them for another minute. He tore open the packet with his teeth, pausing to shudder when you settled between his legs and sloppily kissed the head of his cock. “ _You_ are a little tease.” 

 

“May I?” You asked again, taking the condom from his limp fingers.

 

“Jesus, _yes_ you fuckin' _may_. Whatever you want to do.” Peter gritted his teeth while you rolled the material down over his dick. “Do I need to...?”

 

“Just lay there and relax. I promise you won't hurt me.” You murmured, straddling him carefully. His fists were clenched at his sides and you took the time to pry his hands open and intertwine your fingers, raising one hand to your mouth so you could kiss his knuckles as you sank down onto his cock.

 

“ _Oh_ \--fuck me, you--” Peter gasped, his fingers twitching in your grasp when you came to a stop. Your knees were trembling a little. “ _Jesus_ , you took every inch. Okay. Okay.” He huffed out a breath, tugging his hands free. “I...can I move? Want to move.” He grunted, holding your hips and accidentally grinding your clit against his pelvis. You arched your back, moaning and _that_ was obviously a noise he understood, if the cocky grin that lit up his face was any indicator. “ _Yeah_ , that's what I like, let me hear you.” He encouraged, his confidence returning.

 

You rolled your hips, planting your hands firmly on his chest as you leaned forward and obliged him.

 

Peter cupped the back of your neck, seeming to savor every whimper and cry you let out. He moved with you, panting, “You're so good, feel so fucking  _good_ on my cock, don't you dare stop-”

 

“Not a chance in hell, _Star-Lord_.” You gasped, loving the way his eyes rolled back in his head when you said his name. 

 

“ _Fuck_ , you tease, you goddamn _tease_.” He said finally, his smile back in full force as he threw his arm over the small of your back and tugged you down to make out with him. He pinned you to his hips, groaning into your mouth as he bucked up into you _hard_ , obviously over his fear of hurting you. “Are you close?” He asked roughly, swallowing hard when you clenched down on him in reply. “ _Oh_ , fuck, alright, I take that as a yes, _Jesus_.”

 

“You can't just expect me to--not react when I'm getting railed by a superhero-” You managed to say, watching his eyes light up with pride. “It's a pretty big deal, y'know.”

 

“Hell, when you put it _that_ way.” Peter cupped your face, his lips barely touching your own. He looked unsure for a second, glancing down at your mouth and then back up to your eyes. “ _Star-Lord_ wants you to come.” His voice was so soft.

 

“Star-Lord wants me to come?” You echoed, barely able to keep in your giggles. Everything just felt so _good_ , it was hardly fair! You could feel your orgasm coiled tightly in your stomach, ready to tip you over the edge. His moan in response was enough to assure you that this was no laughing matter, though, the sound pure, unmasked longing. 

 

“ _God_ , yes, please.” Peter begged, biting his lip when you keened for him. “Oh that's _great_ , that is a great noise, you are fucking _awesome_.”

 

“Star-Lord, I'm-- _I'm-!_ ” Your voice gave out but Quill _definitely_ got the gist, his hand tangling in your hair and cradling you to his chest as your body shook and trembled. “ _Please, please, please_.” You chanted, rolling your hips against his own even while you continued to shiver in his arms.

 

“Oh God, _fuck_ , okay, alright, you want it, you're gonna' get it.” Peter snarled, one large hand spread out on the small of your back to hold you still as he thrust up into you. Quick, _deep_ snaps of his hips shifted your whole body as he chased his own release. “You are going to _absolutely_ get it, holy shit, I-” 

 

“Please, Star-Lord!” You begged, making him shudder and groan into your hair. You felt his body tense as he came, burying your face in his neck and moaning softly while he gasped for breath.

 

“ _You_ are...not fair.” He said finally. “Namedropping. Outrageous.”

 

“Hey, it's not exactly _my_ fault that you're the weird one with an outlaw name fetish.” You pointed out, propping yourself up to kiss his nose. “I would say I promise to only use my powers for good, but...”

 

Quill looked wholly content, not even bothering to defend himself as he crossed his arms behind his head and grinned lazily up at you. “Have I done a good enough job of convincing you to stay?”

 

…

 

_Rocket crept down the ladder, pressing a finger to his lips when Groot opened his mouth to speak. Peter was sure to be in an awful mood, it was better to let him sleep at this point. Padding silently along the floor to his sleeping area, Rocket stopped suddenly. He squinted in the faint light from the flight deck, **definitely** making out a lump in Quill's bunk that was too big to be just the lone man. His heart sank, wondering if Peter had instantly headed back to his... **messy** ways the second the other Terran was out of the picture. He slunk closer to the bed and his foot bumped into something on the floor._

 

_It was Quill's old music thing. The one he'd snuck into the Terran's bag before they left. And if **that** was here..._

 

“I am Groot.” _Groot whispered, pointing to the bunk._

 

“I know, buddy. He did it. He decided to not suck at life for once.” _Rocket didn't know why he felt so proud, momentarily debating on putting Quill's hand in a bowl of warm water. He decided against the prank eventually, just shaking his head and carrying on to his own bunk. It had been a long day of Galaxy-Guarding, and he felt like he'd earned a rest._ “Sleep good, you two idiots.”

 


End file.
